A Little Piece of Hevan
by GirlInTheMirror121
Summary: Spinoff to "Walking Through Fire". Two years after Noah Puckerman's death, Kurt Hummel finds himself in love with Sam Evans. Is Sam the one he's really meant to be with...or does he still love Noah after all this time? Sam/Kurt Hevan .
1. Intro

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

**Note: Okay, so it's been two months since I finished off "Walking Through Fire". I am now about to start the spin-off, "A Little Piece of Hevan". It will probably be around 25 chapters in the end, but that can always change. I will not write any more stories in this series after this one. As usual, reviews are more than welcome. **

_Two years after_

Kurt was in the apartment that he shared with his dear friend, Rachel, in New York City. He sighed, knowing that the second anniversary of his former lover, Puck's, death was approaching. He cast a glance at the old school photo that he still kept in his wallet, the photo that he hid behind the picture of his stepbrother, Finn, but was now held in his hands. Closing his eyes, he slid it back into his wallet, placing it on the dresser. He put his head between his knees, remembering the screams as the gun fired, as his boyfriend fell to the ground, as he told him he loved him before he died. A knock on the door pulled him out of his flashback, and he got up to answer it.

"Hey, baby," Sam Evans said, pulling Kurt into a hug.

"Hey," Kurt whispered, leaning into Sam's embrace. Sam, the boy whom he'd never expected to fall for and find his love in return. Sam, the boy who quietly admitted to Kurt that he was gay just a year prior, and who had been dating him ever since. Sam, the boy who had followed Kurt to New York and who had lifted him out of his post traumatic stress disorder and depression. Sam, who loved him more than Kurt could possibly ask.

"Are you okay?" Sam frowned.

"Just…thinking," Kurt stepped back, allowing Sam to enter the apartment.

"About what?" Sam settled himself onto the recliner in the living area.

"It's been nearly two years since he died," Kurt said bluntly. "And I don't think anyone but me really remembers or cares."

"Oh," Sam looked down at his hands awkwardly. "I'm sorry, Kurt."

"No, no," Kurt sighed heavily and sat down across from Sam. "_I'm_ sorry. I shouldn't be talking about my deceased boyfriend around my current boyfriend."

"It's okay," Sam reached out for Kurt's hands. "I know it still hurts. I mean, my grandma died five years ago, and it still hurts to think about her sometimes."

Kurt gave Sam a tiny smile. "How did I get so lucky to find someone like you?"

Sam shrugged. "I ask myself the same thing every day, Kurt."

Kurt blushed. "I love you, Sam. I really do love you."

Sam kissed Kurt's forehead. "I love you, too."

* * *

><p>Kurt paced the bedroom. Occasionally, he looked down at his left arm, catching sight of the long, deep scar that ran down the length of his pale skin, remembering the day that he tried to kill himself for the second time. He'd been in the graveyard, running away after his father told him of his dead sister for the first time, and, having broken up with Puck the night before and unable to take it anymore, decided to end it. Quinn, an old friend to both Kurt and Sam, had luckily found Kurt as he was bleeding out, and saved him, and for that, Kurt would always be grateful to her. His arms were littered with scars, in fact, from the days of his former pyromania, a sickness that consumed him and sent him spiraling down a deep, dark hole unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Breathing heavily, he sank into a corner of the room, putting his head between his knees. He had long lost the urge to burn himself, but lately, he was finding himself missing Puck more and more, missing his touch, his kiss, his smell, his very presence. He shivered against his will, trying to push all thoughts of his long-lost love out of his head, trying instead to focus on Sam, the boy who loved him so much, it sometimes hurt Kurt to watch, knowing that he could not possibly match this amount of pure, true love. He caught sight of a candle sitting on Rachel's dresser, wondering what it would be like to burn again, to feel that cradle of passionate love once more. Standing up slowly, he walked over to the dresser, one step at a time, reaching for the candle in seemingly slow-motion. Holding it in his hands, he turned it over and over, striking it quickly and holding it in front of his eyes, staring into the flickering flames, trembling as he did so, not wanting to stumble back into his past, not wanting to go back again.<p>

_And yet he wanted to, so badly. _


	2. Songwriting and Tears

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

**Note: I know it's been a couple of weeks, but I've had papers, homework, other stories, and things such as Parent Weekend to deal with. After this chapter, I'll be starting to include the songs. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please do review.**

**Note: Kurt's "original song" was written by me. **

Rachel came home to find Kurt sitting on the floor of their bedroom, rocking back and forth and sobbing. "Honey…what's wrong?" she knelt down to wrap him in her arms.

"I…I want to…so badly…" he pointed at the candle, which he had flung across the room. "I want to burn…Noah…it's been nearly two years…I can't d…deal…"

Rachel sighed. "Oh, Kurt." She closed her eyes, trying to figure out how to deal with this; it had been a long time since his last relapse, and she didn't have as much sway over Kurt as she would've liked to have had. "Kurt, you don't…you can't…"

"I know I can't," he took in a shuddering breath. "I don't want to relapse again. But it's the only way I know how to deal with this emotional pain."

"Kurt, listen to me," she grabbed Kurt's hands and looked into his eyes. "There are other ways to deal with your emotional pain other than burning yourself." She closed her eyes again. "I know what it's like, Kurt. I miss him, too. Not nearly as much as you do, naturally, but…I know how the emotional pain is. How do you think it was, growing up without a mother, only to finally find her and then have no connection with her whatsoever? I…Kurt, I found that music was the thing that helped me the most. Why don't you try to sing about it? Sing something to Sam…sing it for Noah…maybe you and I could sing something together. Just like old times, Kurt."

"Okay," Kurt sighed. "Okay. I'll…I'll sing. Just not now…later…I need…time alone…please, Rachel…please…"

"No," she said firmly. "I'm not leaving you alone. Not in the state of mind that you're in right now. Kurt…" she reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Go away," he pulled away. "Please…I promise I won't…I won't burn, Rae…I just need…hand me my journal…"

Rachel dug into Kurt's bedside drawer, pulling out his sleek black journal and his favorite feather pen, handing both to him. "Are you going to write about your feelings?"

"I might write a song," he opened it to a fresh page, uncapping the pen. "For…well, I don't know who it'll be for. Sam…Noah…myself…I just need to write."

"Okay," she whispered, making sure she slipped the candle into her pocket, out of Kurt's sight, before exiting the room in pursuit of catching a special on Bernadette Peters on TV. Kurt feverishly wrote in his journal, only pausing for a moment or two to turn the page. He finally proudly strode into the living room two hours later, bringing his journal with him, throwing it into Rachel's lap. "I'm done," he collapsed into his armchair.

"Really? And I assume, due to the fact that you've thrown this into my lap, that I'm allowed to read this?" He nodded, and she thumbed to the page he'd marked.

"Sometimes I look at your face

But all I feel is pain

And sometimes I call out your name

But all I can hear is rain"

She gave him a curious look. Kurt had scribbled things out, crossed them off, and written notes along the side, so it was difficult to read, but it looked as if he'd written Puck's name over and over in the margins, only to cross it out and write "Sam" in its place. She swallowed and continued to read.

"Didn't wanna say goodbye

Didn't wanna have to close your eyes

But standing here in the dark tonight

I still love you"

Rachel's breath hitched; this song _was_ about Puck. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, processing what Kurt had written. Kurt was still in love with Puck; it was clear as day to her now. She looked past Kurt's chickenscratch and read on.

"Maybe I should turn around and run

Give up on us entirely

But then I feel your arms around me

And nothing seems the same"

Rachel glanced at Kurt, who was nearly asleep, half-absorbed in the Project Runway rerun that was playing, and half-in his own little world. She wondered what was running through his mind as he wrote this song, but as she turned the page and saw the "Noah" written in a heart, she regretted reading this.

"Didn't wanna say goodbye

Didn't wanna have to close my eyes

But standing here in the dark tonight

I still love you"

Taking a brief respite from reading the song, she flipped through the rest of the journal quickly, trying to get an idea of what went on in Kurt Hummel's mind. She saw many entries about their adventures in the City together, some about his dates with Sam, but the majority of his inner musings were about Puck. She shook her head, feeling sorry for Sam, who was clearly very in love with the boy, but knew Kurt didn't feel the same.

"So I take a step back

Look at you now

And somehow I know

I'm home again with you"

Rachel began to cry softly. Kurt, very clearly, never got over Puck, even in his death. Kurt didn't notice her tears; he was fast asleep in the armchair, the light from the TV illuminating his porcelain face. She quietly covered him up with an afghan, picking up the journal once more. She saw that all there was to the song were two more choruses, the same as the first one. She slid it back in his bedside drawer before she slipped into bed, crying herself to sleep over this beautiful, broken boy.


End file.
